Pathway to a Proposal
by ashleyjskywalker
Summary: If you'd told him he'd be married and settled down, a wife and kids and a house, he would have laughed. Oneshot.


Aaaaaaand the plot bunnies return. This one's long. o_0

* * *

Drinking games usually fall into the realm of the ridiculous for you. This one is no exception. You sit at the poker table with your current business partners- con-men, all of you. None of them know your real name, and you doubt you know any of theirs, but you're all celebrating your latest successful venture nonetheless. And so the cards come out, someone produces a bottle of whiskey, and soon everyone at the table is inebriated and the bets are becoming ridiculous.

Turn-of-play falls to the man across from you, and he grins drunkenly and hiccups before laying his cards down. "I bet in ten years old Petey boy here will be married with a kid or two and settled down all nice and domestic like," he slurs, and the entire table breaks into raucous laughter, yourself included, because even if none of these men know that your real last name is _Bishop_ and you have a mad scientist of a father that is locked away in an mental hospital, some traits are too hard to disguise, and they all know that you never stay in one place for too long. So you raise your glass to him, smirking. "I'll take that bet."

* * *

Standing above her looking down at her too-still body lying in the hospital bed creates a feeling that you're not at all familiar with. A twisting in your gut, a shortness of breath, a stinging behind your eyes that can only signal the onset of tears. It doesn't seem right, that this should happen to her- she's given so much of herself already, lost so much dear to her, seen so many things that no one should be subject to.

Her fingers are still beneath yours, and you squeeze them, willing her to squeeze them back, to open her eyes, to move her lips. Something, anything that will signify that she's coming back to you. Because you can admit that you value her company, even if you refuse to acknowledge anything farther than that, and you don't _want_ to say good-bye to this woman who somehow managed to con the con-man.

* * *

Jacksonville gives you pause, not just because you realize how much you wanted to kiss her, but how much you wanted more than just that. Usually, you're content with one night stands, slipping out sometime in the early morning before your bed partner is even awake. It's easier that way- no emotional entanglement, no getting tied down to someone. It fits your style. Attachment makes staying on the move too hard.

But then you realize that the time you've been in Boston eclipses the time you've spent anywhere else by far, and you're fairly sure you know the reason why. She mesmerizes you. The was she moves, the way she talks, that intense look of concentration that she takes on when she's puzzling out part of a case. And the all too rare glimpses you get of who she is underneath the exterior of _Special Agent Dunham,_ when the mask slips and you get to see _Olivia._

You're in over your head. But surprisingly, that acknowledgment doesn't bother you.

* * *

Whatever anger you might have felt at her for _knowing_ and not telling your quickly fades away when she pours her very soul out to you, and though you try not to show it a thrill races through you when she tells you that you belong with her. Because those are the very words that you've been trying so hard to ignore since Jacksonville, afraid that she didn't feel the same way about you that you feel about her, afraid that she wouldn't ever want to be involved with someone she worked with again, afraid that you weren't worthy of her. But as her lips meet yours and you wrap one arm around her to pull her closer, there's no decision left to make about whether you stay here or go back. Because she is everything.

* * *

It strikes you as odd, the surprise that she tries to hide when you kiss her once you finally get out of the debriefing that felt like it went on for days, but you tell yourself that it's only because she isn't used to being able to show affection publicly. You notice that she smiles more easily, and more often, but you convince yourself that you're happier too, so why shouldn't she be? You're bothered when you notice she's begun to drink her coffee with creamer in it, but you assure yourself that people's tastes change and this is just one of those instances.

Stupid.

You wonder when your instincts failed you. Had it been anyone else, someone you hadn't been so desperate to please, you would've noticed. You've _always_ been able to read people, it's the only reason you survived so long as a con. But you let your feelings get in the way, and now it might've cost you the thing you wanted most.

Stupid.

The betrayal in her eyes almost killed you, twisted a knife in your gut. As if you weren't hurting enough already. As if you hadn't realized what an immensely idiotic mistake you made. It doesn't matter that you thought she was _your_ Olivia. Because she wasn't, and while you sat and ignored every wrong signal that she sent, the woman you love was kidnapped and brainwashed and confined. While you slept with the wrong woman, the one that means everything was almost killed. And even if she ever forgives you- and you're not optimistic about your chances there- you don't think you'll ever forgive yourself.

* * *

Whatever higher power that exists must have it out for you.

Every time- _every single God-forsaken time_- that you finally think she's yours and this is your ever-after, something happens, and you are torn apart again. You stepped into the Machine because you had to, because no one else could, and someone had to do _something_ to stop both universes from unraveling. And even if it was contrived- separate universes and Observers aside, you hadn't aged when you came back out and have ruled out actual time travel, which leaves only one conclusion- you still had what you've wanted so much ever since Jacksonville: a lifetime with her at your side. And it is everything you've ever imagined- waking up with her in your arms, falling asleep with her head on your shoulder, cherishing every smile that she gives you and wiping away every tear that falls from her eyes. And to have it all ripped away by the bullet that Walternate leaves in her forehead almost kills you, leaves you empty and desolate inside.

So it is no small amount of relief that takes you over when you find out that you're back where you belong, that she and Walter and Astrid are still working cases from the lab and the universes are bridged together. And all you want to do when she steps into your hospital room is sweep her into your arms and never, ever let her go again.

And then you see the look on her face, and you realize that the universe has one-upped you again. She doesn't know who you are- none of them do. None of them remember _anything_ about you, not even Walter, who only says over and over again that you died when you were a boy, that you cannot possibly be his son.

You tell yourself that at least she's alive, at least her forehead is smooth and unmarred by the angry red circle that was the bullet wound that took her from you. But that reassurance rings hollowly in your mind, especially now, especially after you_ saw_ what a lifetime with her could be. You try not to hope that she'll just _remember,_ try not to set yourself up to be hurt again, and you make yourself believe that you've somehow been placed into yet another mirrored universe and that somewhere, your Olivia is waiting for you to come home. And just when you think you might actually believe that, your world is turned upside down again when she _remembers._

You think that this game that fate is playing with you is a cruel one, the pain of your last betrayal still all too fresh in your mind. She looks like your Olivia, talks like her, moves like her, carries that same haunted expression around her eyes. She drinks her coffee the same way, listens to the same music, keeps the furniture arranged in her apartment the _same damn way._ And yet you vacillate between making her yours again and pushing her away, because you're afraid that you're being tricked into the same mistake all over again. And it feels like you can't win, because if you give in and she's not the woman you love, you'll be hurting the Olivia you miss... And if she _is,_ you're hurting her now by keeping her at arm's length.

And just when you think the decision will drive you mad, September puts your heart at ease, and you realize that home has been within arm's reach all along.

* * *

If there is a God, he must be a sadistic bastard, you decide as you look down at her body lying in your arms, your world crumbling to pieces around you. Because it wasn't enough that she's been taken from you so many times already, now you had to watch your _father_ shoot the woman who is your world in the head, mirroring that fading memory of the same man from a different world kill her the same way. And you can feel yourself begin to come apart at the seams, because there is nothing in this world for you now without her, nothing to ground you, nothing to keep you sane. She has become your lifeline, and you're not sure how you'll be able to live without her at your side.

You don't want to hope, as Walter begins his plan to bring her back, don't want to think that it's even possible, don't want it to hurt more than it already does when it doesn't work.

But when it does, you hold her as close as you can, tears still flowing freely, knowing that you've never loved anything as much as you love her. And you don't think that it would ever be possible for you to love anything _more_ than that, until she tells you that she's pregnant and your love multiplies tenfold for her and the life that's growing inside of her.

* * *

You've come so close to losing her so many times that the decision is an easy one to make. And you find no small amount of humor in it as you remember that poker game so long ago and the way you laughed when they spoke of you settling down. But you will not lose her again, and so one morning when she leaves for work, you stay home under guise the fixing up some things around the house and set your plan into motion.

It's not easy to hide anything from a seasoned investigator. It's even harder when said investigator has an eye for detail and an eidetic memory and notices when you move the smallest thing. And so when you decided that you were going to do this, you decided you would do it quickly. You wait an hour after she leaves- enough time to make sure she won't have forgotten something and come back home for it to find you gone- before you set off.

When you get back a few hours later, there is a box in your pocket and several bags in your arms. And when she gets home that evening, the table is set, candles are lit, and dinner is on the table. You meet her at the door, kissing her softly, unable to keep the smile off of your face.

"What?" she asks you, a smile gracing her lips as well.

"Just missed you is all," you murmur, taking her coat from her hands and hanging it up. "Dinner's ready."

You follow her into the dining room, hearing the catch in her breath as she sees the table, flowers and candles and the small black box sitting right in the middle of her plate. She looks back at you then, eyes wide, and you smile in encouragement and nudge her towards the table, staying close behind her. And if her hand shakes a little as she reaches for the box and opens it, you understand, because you're trembling with excitement as you wait for her reaction.

When she finally turns around to look at you again, box held open in her head, she finds you down on one knee behind you, reaching up to take the ring with one hand and hold hers with the other. Words are unnecessary here, the questioning look on your face enough as she lets you slip the ring onto her finger before throwing her arms around you and burying her face in your neck.

You must have done something right, you think, that the amazing woman in your arms would agree to spend the rest of her life with you. And you have no intention of ever letting her go.


End file.
